Presently there was blacktop ahead. They had reached the road to San Souci. Rick pulled a flashlight from his pocket and pointed it at the odometer, counting off the tenths of a mile as he headed toward the town. When he reached seven-tenths he stopped the jeep. "Turnoff point," he said. "From now on, we steer our way through the boondocks. Any preferred way, Captain?" Montoya shrugged. "There is no road, or even a path. Do what you can." "Okay. Scotty, make sure we head due north." "Check. Make a 90-degree turn and keep going. I'll correct you." Rick had only one real concern, and that was that the jeep lights might be visible from the higher elevation of Casa Guevara. But it had to be risked. He thought there wasn't really much of a chance, because the thick foliage would screen them. Besides, anyone seeing the lights might assume it was soldiers making their rounds. The ground was carpeted with fallen vegetation, but it was the dry season and the earth under the leaves was firm enough. There was little danger of the jeep bogging down, especially in four-wheel drive. Rick picked his way through the jungle, keeping to clear spots as much as he could. Once it was necessary to butt down a huge banana plant before he could continue, but mostly it was a matter of plowing through scrub. Sometimes a palmetto leaf whipped across his face, and once a thorny bush caught painfully and drew blood. Scotty navigated, keeping track of their direction. Now and then he spoke. "More to the right when you can. We're about a hundred yards to the left of our base line." Then, "Straighten out. We're on course again." After what seemed to Rick an eternity of plowing through the heavy growth, Scotty said quietly, "Pick a place to turn around, then kill the lights and motor." Rick reached a place where there was room, swung the wheels hard, backed around, and put the jeep in its own tracks facing the other way. He turned off the lights and cut the motor switch. The silence and darkness flooded in. "Just sit still until our eyes adjust," Scotty said, very quietly. "If I've figured right, we're about a hundred yards from the dirt road, just about in front of the Guevara driveway. We'd better walk the rest of the way, in case of guards." Rick waited until the blackness lessened. His pupils were fully dilated now, and he could see surprisingly well. There was a moon, but at the moment it was behind a cloud bank. When it emerged, he would be able to see perfectly. "Let's go," Scotty said. "No more talking now. When I hold up my hand, stop and wait for me." The ex-Marine took the lead, Montoya following and Rick bringing up the rear. He took the night stick from his belt and hefted it. The weight was comforting in his hand. Scotty found his way with the ease that Rick always admired. Their steps were noiseless on the carpeted jungle floor. Presently Scotty held up his hand, and Montoya and Rick stopped, waiting. Scotty disappeared ahead of them.